Twenty Five
It's an old poem. But then again, everything here is old. It's getting harder and harder To breath To stay awake To get out of bed To stay alive To get things done To wash this face To give a fuck It's been a while Since I told some tales Everything's in a pile A pile of wails It's been harder and harder Just to move the lid Where's all the ardour That I had when I was a kid There is no life Left in this body Nothing feels alive It just feels heavy It won't move away From this stone-hard bed My soul's been astray Just like the dead These feelings I tried so hard To disregard Instead I'm falling apart Everyday, it keeps draining I started forgetting Am I breathing So I tried to stop thinking And started doing Anything To keep my mind off things Although everything is really tiring I have to care To atleast care But when I do There's this thing That's always been there And it hurts For no reason It's painful So... So painful... It d